


Dreams That Cannot Be

by Penny_P



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Episode Related, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-21 07:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21295694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penny_P/pseuds/Penny_P
Summary: After the encounter with the Equinox, Chakotay ruminates on his relationship with his captain.  Reference is made to several episodes, especially season 4 “Nemesis,” season 5 “Counterpoint,”  season 5 “The Fight,” and season 5/6 “Equinox.”
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35





	Dreams That Cannot Be

**Author's Note:**

> This was among the first stories I wrote and without doubt, the one with the most angst. To be honest, I'm not a big fan of angst, which is why it has taken so long for me to repost this here. It was written not long after Equinox first aired and the juxtaposition of the relationship between Ransom and his first officer Burke with Janeway/Chakotay was somewhat illuminating. Combined with writing while playing the score of Les Miserables, it's not surprising it is so angst-y. Although I was (and still am) a total J/C shipper, this highlighted why a physical relationship between the two was unwise. Still, I couldn't give up on J/C entirely. There's something tragic about the realization that love is not enough. The title and some of the story structure was inspired by the song of the same name from the musical Les Miserables. I've re-worked it a little bit to reduce the melodrama but it remains top of the angst list of my stories.

The impromptu potluck is long over, the crew has dispersed and I am in my quarters, alone and unable to sleep. Kathryn brought the croutons for my salad, and we made a good showing for everyone to see. It’s all forgotten, it’s all forgiven, things are back to normal. Except, of course, they aren’t really. Not yet. It is going to take a while to process the past few weeks - Ransom’s betrayal, and his ultimate atonement. The argument. The terrifying case study of a captain and first officer who became far too close. 

There’s a snatch of song that keeps running through my head. I don’t know what song it is, or where I heard it, or even if the words are exactly right, but it won’t go away and it’s starting to drive me crazy. _And still I pray she’ll come to me…_I sit on my sofa in the dark, awake and waiting. Waiting to see if she’ll come. Trying to decide if I even want her to come.

Now there’s something I never expected – that I would question whether I want her to come. When we were stranded on New Earth, the attraction and friendship we’d felt since virtually the moment we first met grew into something else, something deeper and more permanent. But the ship came back for us before we ever made love, and we agreed we never could, not for as long as we were in the Delta Quadrant. We had to pretend we didn’t feel what we felt. My head knew this was necessary, but my heart and soul fought it. For a very long time, I thought that if she would let me close once, just once, we would find a way to make it work. I thought love would be enough. I was wrong.

She came, and it changed nothing. "It’s just one night," she cautioned me then, "that’s all it can be," and I agreed, because I needed her so badly that night and because part of me didn’t believe her.

I should have.

That night, I lay in the dark, just like tonight, unable - unwilling - to sleep, because I was still afraid of my own dreams. It was my first night back on Voyager after being captured by the Vori and nearly turned into one of their most willing soldiers through drugs and expert manipulation. Most of the drugs had been neutralized, but the Doctor warned me that some residue would take longer to metabolize. I knew that if I slept, the nightmares would return and I would once again be a soldier in the Vori cause, filled with rage and hatred and ready to kill their enemy, the Kraden, with enthusiasm and bloodlust. I was afraid to sleep because the rage and the hatred felt so good in the dreams and when I woke, I would be ashamed and a bit afraid of myself.

And so, I was lying on my sofa in the dark when the door chime sounded. "Come," I said, guessing it was her. "Computer, raise lights to 10%."

She was still in uniform; she probably hadn’t been in her own quarters all day. Even in the dim light she looked tired. "I meant to come sooner." She stood hesitantly just inside the door. "The negotiations ran long. Did I wake you?"

"No." I sat up. "I’m glad you’re here. Please, sit down." She sat in the chair nearest me. "How did it go?"

"Reasonably well. The Kraden will give us safe passage through the rest of their territory, so nothing else should go wrong."

My stomach clenched. ‘Go wrong.’ What a euphemistic description for the days I spent on that planet. An image of her sitting at a table opposite the Kraden envoy flashed in my mind, and I had to fight back a surge of anger.

Even though I thought I hid it, she saw my reaction. "Chakotay," she said in that smoky voice of hers that means she is feeling something deeply. She leaned across the space between us and touched my arm. I stiffened at the touch, and she pulled back, more puzzled than hurt. "I’m worried about you."

"Don’t be," I said, more harshly than I intended. "I’ll be all right."

She looked at me for a long time in the muted light, until I could no longer face her and turned aside. "There’s something more, isn’t there? Something you haven’t told me yet."

She knew me well. I stood, running my hand through my hair. "If there is, I can deal with it."

Standing was a mistake; it was practically an invitation to her to close the distance between us. She came and stood in front of me, her eyes worried and compassionate. "I don’t think you can. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’ve been in ground combat. I doubt you can shock me."

A bitter laughed escaped before I could stop it. She had no idea what she was asking. "That may be true, but Captain, you are the one person I cannot discuss this with."

Her eyes widened, and I knew she understood my meaning. "Oh."

At that moment, we were perilously close to the edge of our unspoken agreement. When we returned from New Earth, we had agreed that a relationship between us on the ship wasn’t possible. Underlying that was the tacit understanding that we would never mention it again. It was just easier that way.

But the Vori changed all that. And she was right, it would help to talk about it, but who could I tell? It was too personal to share with the Doctor, too dangerous to share with Kathryn and too inappropriate to share with anyone else.

Then she surprised me. She took my hands in hers and said, "I think you should tell me."

It was a generous offer, because she clearly knew we would be heading into an area she would prefer to avoid. If I had been stronger, I would have thanked her and told her to get some rest. I would have tried to spare her.

But my strength was all used up. I looked at that worried face and knew I had no more fight left in me. "They used my feelings for you." I gripped her hands tightly, too tightly. "They played on that, making me believe that you …gods, Kathryn. Leave it at that." I broke away, ashamed that I had been so weak that I couldn’t keep my promise. "Thank you for your concern, but I think it’s best that you leave now."

She didn’t leave. She didn’t move. She didn’t say a word.

Finally I turned back to her, half expecting to find her glaring at me in anger. Instead, she looked uncertain, almost vulnerable. "I’m not a counselor, but I think it’s important that you talk about this. Whatever else, you and I are friends. We can weather it."

I don’t know if it was a trick of refracted starlight, or just the angle of the dim cabin lighting, but I remember that her eyes seemed very blue and that I couldn’t look away from them. "The first night," I said, almost without volition, "they told us to dream of our wives and sweethearts, mothers and sisters. I dreamed of you, dreamed that you came looking for me and were killed by the Kraden. The next night, after Namon was killed, I dreamed I found you, staked out face up in the sun, and you died in my arms. The third night, when I met Karya in the Lahanna village, I dreamed that the Kraden captured us all and forced me to watch while they raped and tortured you." I closed my eyes against the image that my words conjured up. I could still see it, as if it were happening in the room. My hands clenched into fists. "In Sickbay, when I saw the ambassador standing so close to you – it was all I could do to stay still. I wanted to rip out his heart for what they did to you. And I know that I’m going to dream it all over again, if I go to sleep."

She bit her lower lip, and her face was soft with pity. "Look at me, Chakotay. I’m all right. No one hurt me."

_You don’t understand_, I wanted to shout at her. _The problem is, they made me realize how much I still love you_._ Now I have to learn to live with that all over again._ But I did not say this. Even in the state I was in, I knew that would have been too much.

Mistaking my silence, she stepped close to me and put her hand on my chest. Surely she felt my heart thudding. "It wasn’t real," she said firmly. "They didn’t hurt me. You didn’t fail me."

I couldn’t help myself. I gathered her into my arms and held her tightly, burying my face in her hair. It felt so good to feel her against me again, I had forgotten how good. She stiffened at first, but as the seconds passed and she realized that all I was doing was hugging her, she relaxed. She even let herself hold me. It was an act of comfort, not passion, and comfort was something she would allow.

And gods help me, I saw the chance that offered and grabbed it. "Stay with me," I said hoarsely. "Just for tonight. Please."

She pulled back, not too far, though. "Chakotay, no –"

"Just tonight," I repeated. "I need to know, really know, that you are all right. I need feel something besides hate and fear." I touched her face, carefully because I didn’t want to scare her away. "I need you, Kathryn."

It was unfair. It was emotional blackmail. It was the truth.

She looked at me a long time, and I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Finally she said, "If I do" – and she placed two fingers on my mouth to keep me from saying anything - "if I do, you have to understand. It’s just one night. There can’t be any others. There can’t be any declarations. No promises, no expectations. It’s just one night."

I was still holding her by the shoulders, still held the scent of her. Between the drugs in my system, the hormones at high tide, and the emotions overwhelming me, I would have said anything to keep her there. And there was a part of me, egotist or romantic or both, that didn’t believe her. Oh, I knew she meant what she said, but there was part of me that truly believed once we finally made love things would change.

And so, I agreed. "One night," and then I kissed her because I couldn’t wait any longer. We stood there a long time, kissing and clinging and touching, until she finally stepped back, and led me to my bed.

It wasn’t quite what I intended. I intended sublime, something so remarkable she wouldn’t be able to stick to her resolve and we would find a way to be together. But my own need overwhelmed me; I needed her to make me feel something positive and life-affirming again, and she gave me all of that. I’m not sure how much I gave her. 

I drifted off, still holding her, but woke as she tried to slip out of bed. "No," I mumbled. "You promised me the night," and without a word, she settled back.

The dreams came anyway, as I had feared. We were back in the Lahanna village; Kathryn had come to the planet looking for me. The Kraden came and took us both away from the others for interrogation. They shackled my wrists and ankles and chained me to a tree while they beat her almost to senselessness, and then they began to rape her. I woke, drenched with cold sweat and screaming her name.

"I’m here," she said from beside me, stroking my arm gently. It took several deep breaths for the dream to dissipate completely, and I buried my face in my hands.

"Chakotay," she said gently, prying my hands away and taking my face in her hands. She looked at me closely, seeing the tears in my eyes and god only knows what else. Then I saw her expression change, and I knew that she knew. There were no promises, no declarations, but she knew.

For a moment I was deathly afraid that she would bolt, but instead she kissed me. Kissed me with enough sweetness to make me believe that she loved me, too. We made love again, slowly this time, and this time it was everything I had hoped it would be. We made no promises and no declarations, and yet everything was clear. We fell asleep with our bodies entwined.

She was gone when I woke in the morning.

I buried my head in the pillow beside me, infused with the scent of her hair, and thought that last night had been a wonderful, terrible mistake. Perhaps the drugs had finally metabolized, perhaps I was thinking with my brain again, but I knew that my dreams of overcoming Kathryn’s reservations were not going to come true. Hell, I knew they shouldn’t come true. Nothing had changed, really, since New Earth. The captain and the first officer should not be romantically involved, especially not in our circumstances. What had happened was just one night. One night that would not be repeated.

Still, I lay in bed and smiled, remembering.

I was still off duty, on medical leave that day, but I made a point of being in the mess hall when she normally came for lunch. And I made a point of smiling, waving cordially, and not joining her. If there was any chance at all of salvaging the situation, I had to prove to her that her "one night" rules were holding. She was clearly startled to see me there, and even though she and Tuvok sat at a table across the room from me and …Parsons, I think it was, she kept glancing over at me when she thought I wasn’t looking. My peripheral vision is exceptionally good, so I could tell this without having to turn my head. I could also see that she was confused.

I finished before she did, and I stopped by her table on my way out. Her eyes were troubled as she looked up at me. "Good morning, Captain," I said carefully. "Or is it afternoon?"

"It is after 1200 hours," Tuvok said, somewhat officiously. We’d been friendlier lately and this sudden retreat to Vulcan reserve made me wonder if he suspected.

"Good afternoon, then. Captain, I want to thank you again for your help last night. I guess I just needed a friendly ear."

She seemed to relax a little. "You’re welcome, Commander."

I left, hoping that neither she nor Tuvok had any clue as to how difficult that was for me. The next few weeks were incredibly hard, trying to let her see that I was grateful without conveying the impression that I expected anything more from her. If I had pushed at all, I would have lost even her friendship. So instead, I stepped back, and gave her as much space as I could for the next several months. She filled it with trying to teach Seven of Nine about humanity, and with her own private musings. For my part, it was harder than when we returned from New Earth. Then, I had only my imagination to taunt me. Memory is a much more potent tease.

It was only few weeks later that we found the ancient communications array, and we all received letters from home.

When she told me about her letter from Mark, and his marriage, we were in her ready room. "I don’t have that safety net anymore," she sadly, and with an oblique look. Yet I knew that it was a test of some kind. Much as I wanted to hold her, to offer her some small comfort, I knew that if I touched her at all she would resent it. I had received bad news as well – most of the Maquis were dead, and the rest in prison - and deeply wanted the comfort of simply holding her, but I had forfeited that right. This time, if there was to be another, she had to come to me.

I thought she might, that night after the makeshift party Neelix threw together. It was an odd affair, commemorating our connection with home with a mixture of genuine happiness and deep sorrow. It wasn’t a party so much as a family reunion, I think, in which we came together to share our joys and our grief. Kathryn was, as usual, the first to leave. I left not long after that, and I thought that she might come so that we could grieve together --not necessarily by making love, although I admit the thought did cross my mind.

But she didn’t come. She didn’t come for more than a year.

We went through a lot in the months that followed – the Hirogen, the Omega particle, Arturis, the Void. After each, I thought perhaps she would come, but she never did. I reconciled myself to the knowledge that she had meant exactly what she said: it was to be that one time only. Paris broke her heart with his disobedience, B’Elanna nearly died, the slip-stream attempt failed, and still, she did not come back.

Then we entered the Davore Imperium, and Inspector Kashyk came on board despite our best efforts to stop him. He took control of the bridge - Kathryn’s bridge – and it seemed that there was nothing we could do about it.

Kashyk. He was the enemy, she never misunderstood that, but if evil were not attractive it would not be so difficult to resist. We knew, she and Tuvok and I, that Kashyk was interested in her; he was as subtle as a dog sniffing a bitch in heat. We also knew that interest was our best advantage, possibly our only advantage, in the face of the superior Davore technology and force. But sexual attraction can be a double-edged sword, and I won’t pretend that I was comfortable with her plan to use it against him. In the end, she pulled it off and I never wanted to know much more than that. He was gone, the telepaths were through the wormhole, and we were on our way.

But that wasn’t the end of it.

The second night after we were beyond the borders of the Davore Imperium, my door chime sounded late at night. I was dressed for bed, but still reviewing reports in the main room; sleep had been elusive for a few weeks. It was very late, and I was surprised when Kathryn came in.

She was out of uniform for once, dressed in a baggy and unattractive sweat suit obviously meant for comfort, not appearance. For just a moment, she paused inside my quarters looking indecisive. Then she moved swiftly and wrapped an arm around my neck. "You owe me a night," she said in that husky voice I cannot resist, and kissed me thoroughly.

Even as I held her to me, I knew this was not about love. It was about need, and regaining control, and perhaps even frustration. None of it mattered, not when I felt her pressed against me. All that mattered was that she wanted me. I knew she was probably using me and didn’t care.

What we did that night can barely be called ‘making love.’ It was lacking in tenderness or spirituality. It was all about urgency and need and power. That night, the power was hers; she needed it to be, and I was content with that. It was feral and fierce and just a bit frightening in its intensity.

She left before morning.

I was better prepared the second time. It was easier to face her in the morning, to pretend that nothing had happened, to keep the joy in my heart hidden. Yes, I was joyful, because in spite of everything else, she had come to me when there was no place else to turn. This time, _she_ had come to _me_. It might never happen again, but at least I had that memory.

A few months later, we entered chaotic space.

Not surprisingly, my recollection of that time is jumbled. What I mostly remember is the sense of confusion and the fear I felt through most of the experience. The hallucinations were bad enough, but the memories of my grandfather were especially disconcerting, and when it was all over, I was shaken badly. My greatest terror – losing control of my own mind – had been revealed not just to me, but to others. I felt stripped and exposed.

I had no intention of calling her that night, the night after we broke free. It was, after all, my problem, my issue to work out. My private fear.

Nonetheless, she came. Late again, late enough that gamma shift was at duty stations and everyone else was asleep. Even I was in bed, although I had not closed my eyes; the visions of my grandfather, listening to his ‘voices,’ were too intrusive. She came in and without a word, embraced me. I held her tightly, and felt that I had found my anchor once more.

Even though she did not repeat her "one night" rules, we both knew they applied. So there were no promises, no declarations. I thanked her for trusting me, and she said simply, "Who else would I trust?"

I honestly don’t know who initiated our love-making that night. It doesn’t matter. What happened between us that night was extraordinary. Even thinking about it now, I have trouble explaining it. It was more than a merging of our bodies, it was ... remarkable. Life-changing.

Except, of course, that nothing changed for us. 

We went to breakfast together the next morning, gossip be damned, but that was the end of it. Life returned to its normal routine, or at least as normal as it gets in the Delta quadrant. It was just one night.

It’s funny, but even after three times I don’t think of her as my lover. My love, yes, but not my lover. We cannot be lovers in the Delta quadrant. The hard reality is our duty to our crew outweighs any personal considerations.

If either of us had any doubts about it, our encounter with the Equinox has just resolved them. Ransom and Burke were an object lesson in what can happen when a captain and exec become too close. The lines blur and the chain of command becomes uncertain. I wonder if they were lovers. It would explain a lot. Even if I tell myself that I would never be as unscrupulous as Burke, or Kathryn as weak as Ransom, I can’t deny that her authority could be undermined. A ship can have only one captain.

Even worse, we saw again what happens when she and I disagree. We don’t do it well. I stopped her from making a terrible decision, and she relieved me of duty. We were both deeply angry and deeply hurt. This time, we made a better start than usual to heal the wounds we each inflicted; still, I cannot help but wonder, if we had the added complication of being regular lovers, would we have been able to repair the damage as quickly? Would the hurt have been even deeper?

We went to Neelix’s potluck together, with coordinated salad and croutons, and showed them all that the rift between us was closed. Or at least, closing. So, now I sit in the dark and wait, and wonder. Will she come now, to try to heal the breach once and for all? It fits our pattern – we’re both in need of a little reassurance tonight.

Oh, I want her. I will always want her, I think. But the last few days have made me realize what I feel doesn’t matter. I don't want to become her Max Burke. I don’t want us to become the next case study of a captain and first officer who got too close. 

If she comes tonight, I won’t send her away. We will have one more night to remember.

But if she does not come … I think I might be relieved. There are dreams that cannot be.


End file.
